


Sympathy for the Devil

by ProwlingThunder



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Yoroiden Samurai Troopers | Ronin Warriors
Genre: Gen, Longterm Illness, Stop Being Such a Templar Alistair, long live the king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4916662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though she found herself hard pressed not to notice what the human Lord and Warden did not.  'Twas a marvel that they did not notice it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sympathy for the Devil

'Twas going to be one of those nights again, Morrigan knew, even before they made to pitch camp. They were still heading northward, to Lothering, and though they made good pace, there was still quite the ways to go.

It seemed longer some days. And it had little to do with the fact that she was the only female in the group. Nay, 'tis seemed more like the contention between the men themselves was at fault. The Gray Warden and the dethroned young King would not look at each other nor speak to one another, though they both seemed very intent to talk to her-- or at her-- no matter her attempts to dissuade it. Cailan was beyond help, asking questions of her of all the little things, though at many times the strange apostate his soldiers had once found took pity on her and called his attention.

Reye-oh, he had called himself. Ryou, he wrote. A strange name, but he had an equally strange appearance and an equally strange fashion of dress, so of strangeness he simply was. Morrigan was not going to count it against him; not yet had he mentioned one word of slander against her. Really, he had not mentioned much of any thing, save that she reminded him of an old friend.

Curious, that. But her curiosity could wait to be soothed, certainly. After all, there was still time yet.

Though she found herself hard pressed not to notice what the human Lord and Warden did not. The way this Ryou stayed at the back of the group if it could be had, and the labored breath he gave when the sun climbed high in to the sky. The way he pressed his self close to the cook fire on even the warmest nights, and held his hands to his chest.

As a beast, she could smell it. The sickness of a dying man, illness the same in mortal skin as it was in nature, and the scent of slow but steady rot. 'Twas a marvel that they did not notice it.

But tonight it was flaring. She could see it in the way he moved, and every breath he took, carefully concealed. The closer they edged for Lothering, the more the air warmed, and the slower the stranger walked. 'Twas a pull in his muscles still, an old one, perhaps forgotten. He fought it with all his being. He did not hide it.

She found a nook to unfurl her tenting, and watched the men and their cook fire burn merrily away from her. The young king sat next to it as well, and watched the stranger haul the dried food stuffs her mother had packed for them from the cloth sack. The fire was shifted, coals and half-dead logs, then soup pot was set upon it. For now, Morrigan simply watched; all the nights before, she had cooked. But perhaps on this night, he had found such strength for this.

Alistair asked something-- Ryou responded and then Cailan seemed to continue with something or other that made their young apostate laugh. Reluctantly curious, she edged closer to listen.

“I grew up on an island, actually... far away from here. I'd never heard of Magi or the Circle before I got here. So no, I'm not running from them.”

In an instant, she knew the topic of their words. The Circle. The Chantry. The knight had an appalling sense of Templar to him, and so it did not surprise her that he was at fault for this. But twas upsetting, even still. Were they not here to help? Did the Gray Wardens not need all they could acquire? It was not as if she were an Abomination. And it was with young Ryou's aid the king still breathed at all. 

Ryou stirred the stew pot carefully, sitting much to close to the source of heat for even Morrigan's comfort. The change was immediate, though far from obvious. Muscles relaxed, the spine straightened, and the apostate's whole countenance changed. He seemed older and more solid, power curling from him in wisps of shimmering heat to bespeak of his difference. Of the magic he housed in his being and blood.

Neither his conversation partners seemed to notice. Nor did they see, as she did, the pinch in his face before it eased away.

“I am not the only one to control an element. My brothers-in-arms, and more then a few others. It is not normal, I guess...” A hitch, a hesitance, and then Ryou nodded to himself. “An enemy once said it was because we have Old Blood in our veins, that was sparked into the forefront by.... But back home everybody has a little.”

King Cailan watched him intently, enraptured by his words. Morrigan saw new worry bloom on Alistair's face, and felt her own lips curl into a smirk.

“I don't suppose you worship the Maker and Andraste, do you?”


End file.
